Back in September, as an apology for discontinuing a loyalty programme I’d not participated in since about 2012, the SNCF offered me another carte avantage for 1€.
This entitles me – and a companion – to up to 30% off any return journey that includes a weekend, or any single journey that takes place on a Saturday or a Sunday. Some may remember that almost immediately after I got my last one, the SNCF went on strike the and world nearly exploded, so I didn’t have any opportunity to use it. As a result, I seized the day and went on a bit of a booking frenzy, deciding that a friend and I would have a whirlwind weekend in Marseille, because, well – because. We paid 74€ each for a return in first.
Unless you fly, Marseille is a long way from the south-west of France. It’s at least six and a half hours via Paris on the TGV from Angoulême with an hour to change from Montparnasse (ick) to the Gare du Lyon (ooh), at least seven from Limoges with over an hour to potter over the bridge from Austerlitz, nearly nine from Limoges via Toulouse, or – finally – about eight hours via Bordeaux – with just over an hour to buy a baguette and insert some caffeine and a croissant.
So this morning we set off from Angoulême on the 8h36, spent an hour – or so – inserting coffee and croissants and looking for a boulangerie in the vicinity of Bordeaux Saint-Jean, then settled down to a six-hour journey on the 10h34 Intercités to Marseille Saint-Charles.
The journey from Angoulême was quick and uneventful. If anything, it was slightly dull as the bar didn’t have a working coffee machine and the weather outside was glum and somewhat bleak. The TGV had – what I think is – the revised Christian Lacroix interior in first with new leather bits which rub and squeak like a creaky dominatrix and make everyone turn and stare in silent disapproval as you fiddle with the buttons. It was a bit rattly.
Bordeaux Saint-Jean is quite grand inside, with an imposing concourse and plenty to do. There’s an open-access piano for those who can, and lots of shops and cafés for those who can’t. There’s also a fascinating exhibition of photos of Bordeaux during lock-down which could quite feasibly be photographs of Bordeaux at the beginning of another century.
We had an hour and twenty minutes to spare and spent that time sitting in a café opposite the station watching the world go by until it was time to board the 10h34 Intercités to Marseille.
I like the old Intercités trains. Our big, comfy, table seats were a little offset from the window, which was a bit dirty, but it didn’t really matter. The view from the rear of the train was not obscured by a locomotive but instead by a lot of grime. Boo hiss.
We trundled along quite sedately – about 140kph – to Narbonne, looking at mountains on either side. I’d booked us next to a north-facing window, so got some lovely views and colours as the clouds slowly cleared and the sun broke through. Most people seemed to start lunch at about midday, but we hung on until gone one – just after Toulouse – to give us time to silently judge what other people were having.
Ours was a bit of an excessive feast, really. We had a 1,5 litre wine-cow of rosé, a bean salad, potato salad, hard-boiled eggs, smoked salmon, carrot sticks and celery sticks, hummus — all sorts of goodies. A woman further down the carriage watched as we brought out our plates, knives and forks, and glasse and almost completely lost it when we produced slices of lemon for the salmon. We followed that up with some brie and baguette, then waited a little for everything to settle before having the tiramisu. Winnie the Pooh napkins, of course.
The change in landscape and vegetation was marked and both seem particularly suited to autumnal colours. On the other side of the train, the sea made progressively closer and longer appearances the closer we got to Marseille. When we finally pulled into Saint-Charles, it was cooler than expected but warmer than where we’d come from. We bought an unlimited 72-hour pass for the metro, buses and trams which cost just 10,70€ which – when you consider a single ticket is 1,70€ and a carnet of ten costs 15€. Hopefully we’ll make good use of it; I have plans.
Once we’d found the Airbnb – flashbacks of Zagreb – we had time to freshen up, suck on the wine-cow a little more and then gird our loins for a trip to the Vieux Port. We walked around for a little while with no real purpose before settling on a place to have a drink – not Ricard, more of that tomorrow – and something to eat. Considering Marseille is France’s second-largest city, everything seems really good value for money compared with, say, Paris or even Bordeaux – even in what should be the touristy area – with places proposing three-course menus for 20€ which is, frankly, astonishing. Can’t vouch for the quality, mind.
We settled on a studenty pub for our apéro then headed to Bar Bu for a burger because we weren’t feeling overly inspired. I had the vegetarian (12€), companion had the flesh (16€) – and we had a beer and a glass of rosé respectively. It came to 23€ each but we thoroughly enjoyed it and the atmosphere and service were enjoyable.
After a little more walking, we hopped on a metro and headed to what will be our home for the next few days. We like Marseille!
